Prince Darcy
by AllisonEmmaSmith
Summary: A sweet Cinderella retelling of Pride & Prejudice. Elizabeth endures life under her stepmother, the second Mrs Bennet, in order to protect the delicate health of her elder sister, Jane. Her last hope is to see Jane safely wed to the new master of Netherfield. She never imagines that at Bingley's midnight ball she will capture the eye of the Prince of Pemberley, Fitzwilliam Darcy.


**A midnight rescue. Prince Darcy in disguise. A magical gem that marks Elizabeth as a Pemberley bride. . .**

Prince Darcy of Pemberley did not expect to battle wits and join forces with Miss Elizabeth Bennet of Longbourn. But after a midnight encounter with the mysterious, fiery-eyed beauty leaves him intrigued and desiring to know her better, Darcy almost forgets why he has come in secret to Meryton.

But Elizabeth is far more than an alluring face and sharp mind. She may be the key to retrieving from a villainous thief the stolen Darcy sapphire—without the ring, Darcy cannot fulfill his duty to wed, or his promise to love.

A duty and promise he desires to keep, now more than ever. Especially when the consequences of their bargain sealed in blood places Elizabeth in ruin.

A daring rescue, a midnight ball, a mad dash through the forest from a dark enchantress . . .Prince Darcy is a sweet Pride & Prejudice variation with a Cinderella fairy tale twist. For readers who enjoy the verbal dance between Elizabeth and Darcy as well as an angst—but not adventure!—free romance. This is a standalone HEA and will be the first in a series of retellings.

This is a full length novel of approximately 400 print pages available on all major ebook retailers. Limited ARC copies on Booksprout dot io

* * *

 _The pressure on her wrist was gone, a man's distant shout fading to the background. Run. She must run._

 _Elizabeth turned, stumbling. She did not feel her ankle twist and the delicate ice blue slipper fall away, though the sole of one foot encountered chill, rough stone._

 _Run._

 _She must find shelter in the forest. Her enemies would not find her there._

 _"Elizabeth!" the crone cackled, reaching forward. "You will pay for this. You will not get away."_

 _The moon turned its disapproving face towards her as she ran, her gown catching on foliage, tearing rents in the fragile fabric. She dashed through gardens and fields until she reached the edge of the forest that nestled Pemberley. Sharp pain faded to the background as ghostly hands reached out to grasp her. She slid away from their imprisonment, a racking cough in the distance spurring her on. The crone was following, would not allow her to escape with her life._

 _No—not a crone. Mary. Her sister, Mary. How long had Mary carried such malevolence in her heart? Was she the one who had cursed Bingley?_

 _She stumbled. A wrap, why had she not brought a wrap? "Foolish, Elizabeth. Very foolish."_

 _"Elizabeth."_

 _The sepulchral voice reached out. She turned. In the moonlit mist a figure emerged, cloaked in Mary's sensible weave._

 _"It was you," Elizabeth said, clutching her forehead. Confused. Nothing made sense anymore. "The one who witched Bingley against Jane."_

 _"You are distraught. Come before you harm yourself."_

 _"What have you done to me?"_

 _"Come with me, I shall explain."_

 _"No!" She shied away as Mary came closer, crossing the distance of a mile in mere seconds. When had Mary become so powerful?_

How?

Several Weeks Prior

 _No man wants a sickly wife, no matter how comely. . .and Elizabeth is such a clever girl—clever girls never wed._

Elizabeth stabbed at the loamy earth, uncaring of broken nails and dirt caked in her nail beds. How _dare_ that woman speak in such a dismissive manner? She cared little for her stepmother's opinion regarding herself, but Jane—insult to Jane roused her temper, stoking determination to find a way out. Somehow. Away from Longbourn, though the thought of leaving her childhood home exacerbated an unsettled ache in her heart since the death of her father three years ago.

Standing, she picked up the brown wicker basket filled with the wild plants she came to the forest to pick for Jane's restorative tea. There were people, even in these modern times, who denied the existence of magic and the wild, herbal arts of wise women. Elizabeth had never been one, especially not since she could be accused of using some of their skills on Jane's behalf. People were fools, however. There was nothing magical about knowing the right plants and methods of preparation. Though even were her sister in perfect health, she would find an excuse to flee to her outdoor sanctuary. Out here the only sounds were the sigh of the wind through the forest canopy, the chatter of birds and rustle of small creatures. No critical stepmother, no tittering younger half sisters. Just peace.

Before she sought peace or adventure, perhaps her own chance at love with a man who appreciated her cleverness—a man worthy of respect—she must see Jane wed to a gentleman who would dote on her. As the loveliest of all the Bennet sisters, it should not be so hard to find Jane a husband. If not for their modest dowry and the constant, subtle sabotage of their stepmother, the second Mrs Bennett, Jane might have wed years ago.

Elizabeth walked, weaving through trees and underbrush until she came to the common path that traversed the forest. It was an hour until she returned home and she had spent twice that time finding her plants. She skirted the front entrance and entered the house from the side, going straight to the kitchen where she sat her basket on the wide working table and hung her threadbare shawl on a peg.

Heavy footsteps came down the hall that led to the rest of the house. Elizabeth turned, taking a half empty tea tray from Mrs Carson's hands.

"You were gone a good while," Mrs Carson said, a warning in her voice. "Mrs Bennet missed you at tea."

"I doubt she missed me. She may have complained I was not present."

Tormenting Jane was beneath her stepmother, as Jane was soft spoken and rarely spoke back. Her own daughters Adelaide Bennet doted on, which left only Elizabeth for the woman to subject to her constant dissatisfaction. She dared not displease their remaining servants. Mrs Carson fulfilled the roles of two servants, due to her loyalty to the deceased Mr Bennett, without demanding the pay.

"Well, go on upstairs and clean up before she sees the dirt caked in your nails. I'll bring a tray up."

"No, do not trouble yourself. I will come back down and help you with dinner."

"Not right. A daughter of the house helpin' in the kitchen."

Elizabeth kissed her cheek. "Cease your grumbling. It has not killed me yet."

Mrs Carson flicked a towel at Elizabeth. "Get on with you, daft girl."

Grinning, she left the kitchen, walking as quietly as possible through the hall to the stairway that led to her and Jane's small, shared bedroom.

"Elizabeth!"

She stopped, taking care to smooth the grimace from her face before turning. Her stomach clenched as always, throat dry from the effort to swallow imprudent speech. "Stepmother."

Mrs Bennet was a tall, slender woman with ash blonde hair and a perpetually dissatisfied expression in her hazel eyes, her dress a touch too ornate for an afternoon tea with family. Pearls adorned her ears and neck, mouth thin with restrained temper.

" _Where_ have you been all day? Tea was late. I ask _very_ little of you, Elizabeth, in return for convincing Mr Collins not to toss you and Jane out into the cold world to make a living as decent, unwed gentlewomen past a certain age should rightfully do."

At the mention of her ridiculous cousin, usurper of her inheritance, Elizabeth's lip curled. "We are both eternally grateful, no doubt."

"I will have _none_ of your sass. You are covered in filth so I can guess where you have gone. _Wasting_ time when there are chores to do. And Jane whiling away the afternoon in bed."

Elizabeth stopped herself from slapping the woman. "She is ill. I will do Jane's chores."

"If your father had not been such a _foolish_ man and had invested his income better, the estate would be able to afford the servants commensurate with my station."

She had heard the woe is me lie a hundred times. "The estate can support staff. You and Mr Collins prefer to divert the funds elsewhere. You are quite content with having Jane and I slave away like servants. Our father never would have allowed it."

Adelaide's cheeks reddened with temper. "Disrespect! Go, leave my sight at _once_."

With pleasure. Elizabeth left and ascended to her bedroom, a single hand clenching her skirt into a wrinkled mess. Her stepmother had not always been so unpleasant. Elizabeth's mother had died when she and Jane were young, and Mr Bennet remarried not a year later. Adelaide was the only mother the eldest Bennet girls had known and once upon a time they had been almost close—before the birth of Lydia, Kitty and Mary. But after his death, with the stress of the entail, with the fuss and worry over finding _her_ three daughters husbands when their two elder half sisters were yet unwed. . .over the last two years the woman's demeanour slowly curdled until living with her was now unbearable.

"Jane?" Elizabeth opened and closed their door quietly in case her sister was asleep.

But Jane sat at the window, a thick shawl wrapped around her slender shoulders. Her hair draped over her shoulder in a thick, golden braid, the color Adelaide's envy. Elizabeth's hand unclenched, calm washing away her ire.

Jane glanced at her and smiled. "Was stepmother terribly upset? Kitty said she was looking for you but I knew you had gone for one of your walks."

"I went to gather your plants to make a fresh infusion. The supply is low."

Jane sighed, blue eyes unhappy. "I make more work for you."

Elizabeth removed the frazzled brown gown she had worn on her walk, replacing it with a grey and equally frazzled but clean gown.

"Nonsense. I enjoy keeping busy. We will find you a rich husband yet, and you shall have trips to Bath as often as you like."

Jane smiled. "Such a pleasant lie."

Elizabeth laughed. "Don't be a cynic. We just have to try harder, is all."

"It is not for lack of trying that I am unwed."

Elizabeth grimaced. It was true. Jane had received suitors over the years—all subtly put off by their stepmother. Elizabeth could not tell if it was deliberate or simply the woman's unpleasant nature. And once any man in his right mind realised he would be attached to such a grasping, unhappy woman and her three as yet unwed daughters forever. . .well.

"There is always hope while we yet live."

Jane's thin brow arched. "That is a happy way to look at it."

Her sister rarely showed these flashes of cynicism, and only when tired. Elizabeth's lips pursed. "I will make you a cup of tea and bring you something to eat. Tomorrow you will feel better."

"We are running out of tomorrows, Lizzy," Jane said softly. "I can see it in her eyes—she will convince Mr Collins to evict us soon."

"I know. I know." Elizabeth crossed the room and took Jane's hand, squeezing it. "Believe me, I will allow nothing to happen to you. You will not be homeless. You have my solemn vow."


End file.
